


Children of the Goddess

by tdwk



Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alpha Erik Killmonger, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, M/M, Omega T'Challa (Marvel), Omega Verse, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-06 22:50:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14067303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tdwk/pseuds/tdwk
Summary: "Erik had lowered his head in respect towards the king of Wakanda, the scent of pale fire and lush rainforest a constant distraction as the king greeted him, a foreign liaison. All he could see were gentle dark brown eyes as T'Challa turned to the rest of his team.The familiar urges of hunt, mine, sate bled through him, his vision and teeth sharpening. It wasn't a secret that the king of Wakanda was an omega, so he'd been counting on his no-omega track record. Except, he'd never felt so close to slipping his chains. What a fucking disaster."(Abandoned/unfinished/discontinued because I'm an idiot who didn't plan and wrote this into the ground, cries.)





	1. Prologue

In the land loved by a goddess, Wakanda welcomed the firstborn child to T'Chaka and Ramonda at the last flush of an inferno sunrise. His cries would reach all the way to the rugged mountains and open plains. In time, the people of Wakanda would know him as T'Challa, prince of Wakanda, heir to the mantle of Black Panther, and omega. The king and queen would, many years later on a quiet night, be blessed with a secondborn girl child, brighter than the blinding stars that lit the skies of innovation and just as dear to Wakanda as her brother before her. 

Children are sheltered from the ugliness of the world, the prince and princess twicefold. While another child felt hunger, fear and cold slinking through the empty smoke-filled streets of Oakland, California, T'Challa was injected with suppressors and consoled with promises of sweets and shiny blades. The other child, bearing two names but no home, became a young man in a single night when blood spilled blood. The prince of Wakanda learned to shift into a Black Panther, to hone his body into an iron-wrought spear and shield, and the young man became a soldier to a madman's cause.

All roads intersect at crossroads, and those loved by the goddess will find themselves inexplicably drawn towards each other. Erik Stevens, handle name Killmonger, with over a hundred kills marked onto his skin, was a child loved by the goddess as much as She loved T'Challa. 

Erik's first kill had been a deer. The goddess reminded him he had silent paws to stalk, canines to bite through flesh and bone, and at the end of it all, rosettes stained with blood. The nights after he lost everything, he didn't go hungry because of Her gift. Because being an alpha didn't keep his belly full, only the jaguar did that.

And so divergent paths converge, omega calls to alpha, and strength pulls power to stand by its side. But, the celestial alignment of stars neither explain the bonds forged between mates, nor can they foretell the future. Only the living can know what awaits.


	2. Chapter 1 - Arrivals (T'Challa)

The stacks of "potential consort" profiles sat on T'Challa's desk, relegated to the corner next to his decorational ink pot. It was so very tempting to just reach over and push the pot until it tipped over. There was only him and his assistant in the room, no witnesses.

As he was seriously contemplating it, his kimoyo beads flashed indicating an incoming message. A miniature Shuri popped up, hands frantically typing. 

"Brother, no time for chitchat. Get your ass to the gates, we have visitors. The important kind with their noisy helicopters and noisier guns. From America."

She didn't even look up from her monitor, eyes scanning the scrolling data. 

"Hello to you too, dear sister. Didn't you say they were delayed for a week because of a confidential reason they couldn't tell us." 

Despite the disinterest in his voice, T'Challa had already abandoned his desk, his assistant quickly grabbing priority papers for on-the-go signing.

"Yeah, and for other confidential reasons they're arriving on time now, brother. So get." 

She punctuated the last word with a sharp jerk of her hand in the vague direction of the main gates.

"As your royal highness wishes," T'Challa smirked. Finally, something exciting had showed up right outside his gates. 

"I've been disabling and reprogramming the entire defense and cloaking system. Just go so mother doesn't hound us later."

Shuri cut the comm, leaving it to T'Challa to say all the right lines, to smile prettily and not offend any important dignitaries. He sighed, thinking about all the things he let his baby sister get away with.

He met up with Okoye and the rest of the Dora Milaje in their ceremonial armour, weapons polished and sharpened to a deadly edge. He nodded at the women, reaching over to straighten Okoye's crooked gauntlet. Must've been date night last night if she'd only woken up because of Shuri's comm. Okoye took it in stride, calling all the women to pay respects to their king. Formalities done, T'Challa led the Dora Milaje to meet the surprise visitors.

Outside the gates, helicopters and an airship were being unloaded. The United Nations had decided its nations should visit Wakanda to understand the nation and its people, and T'Challa had cordially agreed. America had been unanimously voted to be the first foreign power to extend an olive branch to Wakanda.

The Elder's Council had tossed around conditions and restrictions before finally setting a date. T'Challa just let them figure it out, fiddling around with his kimoyo beads under the table. He was there to ensure they came to a compromise, and so they didn't start another set of tribal cold wars.

The Americans would be stationed in Wakanda for a few months, and Wakanda would be sending out their own cultural ambassadors within the week. Nakia would be joining them. If T'Challa had been in panther form his tail would be drooping. She'd been so absorbed in calculating the logistics of the trip that all his comms hadn't gone through. 

Thoughts wandering, T'Challa hadn't noticed the stocky man in a black suit who'd stopped in front of him. He gave off special agent vibes, especially with the spotless suit and stressed eyes. 

Okoye slammed the butt of her spear into the ground twice, the Dora Milaje halted in formation. The women, wearing gleaming bronze vibranium and crimson tunics did look quite intimidating, even in T'Challa's opinion. And he'd been around the elite warriors since birth. He knew it was to show the might of Wakanda's goddess-blessed guardians. For Wakanda, the plains tribe protected the border, the king the heart of the people, and the Dora Milaje the way of succession.

Seemingly unfazed, the special agent strode forward, extending his palm, "You must be King T'Challa. I am Special Agent Everett Ross. Please accept my most sincere condolences on the passing of the late king."

T'Challa noted the sympathy in the man's even voice, gripped his hand in a firm handshake. "Wakanda mourns still for my father. I only hope that I will be able to build upon his rule."

They stood in a few moments of silence. This Agent Ross seemed like a good sort. Maybe these few months weren't going to be as bad as Okoye had lamented they'd be. 

T'Challa broke the silence first, "Your people must be tired. Their lodgings will be ready soon, but for now they are welcome to stay in the guest wing."

Agent Ross winced, barely perceptible, "I apologise about the lack of notice. We ran into some problems before leaving, I hope this doesn't start us off on the wrong foot."

So they knew. Yet they weren't going to divulge exactly what had gone wrong. It could be completely harmless, or it could be something that ran deeper.

"Of course not. Let us continue inside." T'Challa motioned for the Dora Milaje to assist the Americans and ground teams as he led Agent Ross away to hash out the finer details.

Bureaucratic hoops jumped through and good intentions conveyed, T'Challa parted with Everett outside the guest wing. 

He dismissed his assistant, who was ready to stuff a tablet into T'Challa's hands for signing, with a wave. "This one can wait. You're done for today."

T'Challa watched his dejected assistant walk away. His mother had somehow snuck in a petition for a series of trials by combat for the right to be her son's mate. And she had gotten to his assistant too.

Duties completed and the queen mother's matchmaking schemes avoided, T'Challa's feet led him back to where Americans had landed. The chaos of crates and people were now a more ordered commotion.

T'Challa spotted a small combat team of five or six dressed in fatigues resting sprawled under the airship's wing. They must be the professional security and defense team, which Agent Ross had been adamant were all soldiers with clean records. Shuri hadn't gotten around to profiling the team yet, but T'Challa wasn't so naive as to think there weren't some black ops veterans mixed in. 

He figured if anything was going to go wrong, it was most likely going to be from this group. He didn't want to be doing damage control so the next best thing was to make friends. After all, confidence and friendliness were his political weapons of choice. Harmless smile in place, he strode over, making sure he looked like a proper civillian monarch.

As soon as he got within speaking range, the team stood up as one. The man who bowed his head first after seeing T'Challa seemed to be their designated leader, the rest following suit slowly.

Hiding his surprise at their show of deference, and addressing the man who had bowed first, T'Challa spoke, "Welcome to Wakanda. Would you like me to show you to your team's quarters? Everything seems to be more or less unloaded."

T'Challa's senses focused on the man, trying to pick up on anything. Despite the bowed head, dreadlocks falling away from his exposed neck, T'Challa knew the man wasn't showing subservience, only respect. The panther in T'Challa locked onto the leashed power before him, cautious but curious all the same.

The man looked up, and T'Challa must have imagined seeing feral amber staring back at him, because he blinked and the man's eyes were dark, bottomless, obviously human.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that was the first chapter, yaay! It's not long, but I hope it whetted some of y'all's appetites.
> 
> Heads up to all the wonderful and patient people who have subscribed to this work: I am writing this in real time, and updates will be erratic but fairly frequent, fingers crossed.


	3. Chapter 2 - Brothers-in-arms (Erik)

Erik had lowered his head in respect towards the king of Wakanda, the scent of pale fire and lush rainforest a constant distraction as the king greeted him, a foreign liaison. 

The familiar urges of hunt, mine, sate bled through him, his vision and teeth sharpening. It wasn't a secret that the king of Wakanda was an omega, so he'd been counting on his no-omega track record. Except, he'd never felt so close to slipping his chains. What a fucking disaster. 

He had to remember that T'Challa was the son of the man who had killed his father. Gentle dark brown eyes clouded with sadness be damned. Because all the hurt and pain he'd gritted his teeth against and bore, the carnage he craved like a beast thirsting with bloodlust? That couldn't be erased by a fleeting infatuation with a proud, virgin omega. Only revenge was supposed to be sweeter than the raw desire he felt thrumming through his veins.

The king's voice was unhurried, inflection deliberate and less familiar in English. Erik knew it would flow like an endless river when T'Challa spoke the Wakanda tongue. Just like when his daddy used to tell him stories when he was a kid.

"Welcome to Wakanda. Would you like me to show you to your team's quarters? Everything seems to be more or less unloaded." 

Erik willed himself to calm down. His eyes would be a dead giveaway if they kept glowing like superflourescent night lights.

He just had to focus on the plan. Stay in Wakanda, get close to T'Challa, make T'Chaka's family pay for making him an orphan and a killer. He wanted T'Challa to taste the same wretched bitterness he'd been drowning in for over a decade.

He raised his head, eyes darkening back to a near black, muscles relaxed and loose. "Sure thing. Lead the way, my king."

T'Challa flashed a small smile, showing them the length of his back without hesitation. The team shouldered their packs and grabbed worn duffel bags.

Strolling alongside Erik, T'Challa spoke up, "How was the flight, uh," the silence was a shining question.

"Erik. I'm Erik Stevens. This is Cam, that's Linda, Six, Fuse and Rafe," They each waved or grunted affirmative when Erik said their names. 

Turning back around to face T'Challa, Erik continued, "The flight? Well I'm just glad my ass wasn't strapped to a parachute and thrown out the side."

That got a surprised laugh out of T'Challa, the rest of the team chuckling or pulling extremely pained expressions. 

"Was that something you did often?" T'Challa asked.

"When they needed us on the ground pronto, yeah. It wasn't so bad cause they made us do it in basic," said Erik.

"They couldn't shove us out the 'copters fast enough in basic," added Cam, the lanky asian man. "Erik's always landed on his feet though. Unlike some of us who almost went splat."

"I swear Erik's superhuman. Remember when the power went out at the base and we had to go find the back-up generators?" Fuse said softly.

"This guy," Cam flicked his fingers at Erik, "he just ran off by himself and next minute lo and behold, there was light!" 

"You walked into a tree at least three times, Cam. I was worried you'd get a concussion." Erik shot back, folding him arms across his chest acting indignant.

Erik glanced at T'Challa, who seemed to be enjoying his and Cam's digs at each other. Good, he wanted T'Challa to let his guard down. But Linda stepped between him and Cam and said, "Calm down boys. You're in front of royalty. Behave." 

To T'Challa she said, "I'm sorry about Erik and Cam. They're usually more disciplined. I guess we're all tired from the flight."

Linda's mother had served as Dora Milaje. Even if Linda herself wasn't Dora Milaje, she looked at Wakanda royalty with different eyes because of her upbringing. She was also under the impression that the Hatut Zeraze were the hidden protectors of the Wakanda throne. It couldn't be helped, which was why Erik hadn't told her about the huge blood debt owed to him by T'Chaka, and now his son T'Challa. 

T'Challa waved Linda's exasperation off, "It's fine. There's no harm in it."

Erik shrugged, grabbing Cam who had started to sulk like a three year old. "C'mon Cam, Linda's just jealous. King T'Challa said it was fine."

Erik felt inquisitive eyes on him as he patted Cam trying to console him like the good brother-in-arms he was. So the king had more in mind then getting to know a bunch of common soldiers. He and Cam had only known each other in basic training but T'Challa didn't know that.

As they strode past a pair of stately, polished wooden doors, T'Challa spoke, "This is my office. If you have any serious matters you need to discuss with me, come find me here."

Guarding the door were a pair of life-size solid stone leopards lying couchant on equally stone pedestals, paws tucked beneath their spotted hides and heads raised regal and alert. Erik doubted they were mere decorations flaunting the king's office doors. He also noted the distinct lack of visible security, the walls and floor bare of cameras and motion sensors. There didn't even seem to be a lock on the doors. There probably really was nothing there. That is, until a hostile got near them. Getting past those doors to get to T'Challa would prove a challenge, especially since the setup wasn't anything Erik had ever seen, much less broken through. But that kind of advanced tech was exactly what he was here to learn about.

They continued down the wide hall. It seemed this was the main area the whole complex had been constructed around. Great place for a grand ceremony, not so wonderful for a discreet assassination or kidnapping attempt. 

Walking a bit further, T'Challa led them into an open lobby. The lobby was covered by a thick canopy of vines, branches and verdant leaves entangled through sleek white interlocking bars seemingly suspended in the air. A harmonious melding of architecture and nature. Even Erik, who had started avoiding rainforests after that one particular mission found it quite impressive.

"Until the preparations for your lodgings are complete, this wing will be your home," said T'Challa. "If one of you could come with me to receive your kimoyo beads - the communication devices we use here - the rest can settle in."

"Why can't we just use our phones?" Six asked, holding his phone protectively. Six was a good scout, but only when they managed to wrangle his phone away from him.

"All communication devices not made in Wakanda are disabled upon entry. My sister will be reinitiating the shield after some recalibration so your phones will soon stop working. Which is why you will each be given a set of kimoyo beads," he lifted his wrist, briefly showing the team the gleaming black beads. 

Erik figured there'd be something like this. Passing his bags over to Cam and Rafe, he said, "Okay. You guys go get some sleep and I'll go with King T'Challa to get the comms."

Finally alone with T'Challa, Erik gazed at the king as T'Challa spoke to him of Wakanda. 

"The sunsets are so beautiful. They're not something you will ever forget once you've seen one. And I will also show you around the mines when I have time off."

He'd memorised all the stories and histories of Wakanda his daddy had told him so he tuned it out. Making encouraging noises, T'Challa's voice washed over him in the background. 

"I'd love that," Erik said softly.

Erik studied T'Challa. They'd never met before and all the reports on his desk weren't any sort of substitute for the real thing. He'd met T'Challa's father T'Chaka twice before. Once as a child, when T'Chaka had called him a promising young man and granted him a full scholarship and enrolment into any school of his choosing. The second time had been when he'd been inducted as Hatut Zeraze and T'Chaka had smiled warmly at him, told him he was proud of Erik, as if a few words of praise could replace his daddy's death that still echoed in his sleep. Even before he'd found his shift, Erik had known T'Chaka was the one who had knowingly murdered his blood brother, Erik's father, justified as righteous mercy.

T'Challa faintly resembled his late father in bearing. It was the way he held himself, the solemn and noble air of a reigning sovereign fitted T'Challa like a perfect mantle. So unlike the battered and emaciated omegas he'd seen with empty eyes, spirits broken. The smooth curve of T'Challa's neck, barely covered by the collar of his robes, was flawless and unmarked by an alpha's bite. The robes hid his body, yet his neck was naked to any onlooker. An unconscious taunt to all those who sought after him perhaps.

"Shuri - my younger sister - is probably still working on her latest project. But I'll get her to show you some of her new 'badass cool toys', at least that's what she calls her inventions."

"Is she the genius behind Wakanda's defenses, the shield you mentioned earlier?" Erik asked.

"Not exactly. But she did make incredible improvements on the old design when she was nine." T'Challa beamed, the image of a proud big brother. It was a very endearing smile, guileless in nature and beautiful for its innocence. It made Erik want to be there the next time T'Challa felt joy like this.

Shuri's lab was situated on the reverse side of the main complex. It lay beneath a thin turret of a mountain, a sleek black 'ship of some sort rested on the heli-pad marked right outside the darkened entrance. It looked like the gothic lair of a modern-day mad scientist.

Taking the long spiral steps down to the lab proper, Erik found himself following T'Challa into a glass dome filled with clutter and machine parts that were strewn haphazardly across multiple winding benches and even onto the geometrically patterned floor.

"Brother, sit. I'll be with you in a sec," Shuri greeted them without looking up, fixated on hooking in place what looked like fine wires to a tiny metallic panel. Erik and T'Challa shared a look, and both remained standing. 

T'Challa shuffled close to Erik, voice pitched low. "It's always like this," indicating the chaotic disarray, "But what do you think of the lab?"

Erik shrugged, "I only go to these kind of places when I get given stuff for jobs." The genius types he knew tended to be touchy about having too many people bouncing around their labs and experiments. He'd heard secondhand horror stories so he stayed away.

Shuri straightened up, "Okay, done." She raised an eyebrow at Erik, she hadn't noticed him when he'd entered earlier. "Brother, who is this and what can I do for you today?"

Erik watched the siblings grin at each other in geniune delight and bust out a secret handshake. "Shuri," T'Challa looped his arm around Erik's bicep, pulling him forward and earning T'Challa a surprised grunt from Erik, "This here is Erik. He's with the American security and defense team."

Erik didn't comment on T'Challa standing so close to him. He just gritted his teeth and endured it. The subtle warmth of T'Challa's body leaning into his ignited a slow burn that slid languorous over his skin.

Shuri nodded, "The ones you wanted a full background check on, right?" With a few hand gestures she pulled up a holographic profile and started reading it aloud, "Erik Stevenson. 26. Graduated MIT with honours at 19 - impressive. Then joined the Navy SEALs and did tours in Afghanistan and Iraq mostly. It also says here he enjoys hunting on weekends and is a pre-colonial African history buff." Shuri looked up at them, "Do you want me to keep going?"

A part of Erik had been slightly apprehensive Shuri might've somehow managed to dig up his real background, but the late king's restriction was still in place. So long as that held, the only individual privy to the Hatut Zaraze's pasts would be the one worthy of being Wakanda's ruling monarch that he, Erik as the First, swore an oath of fealty to.

"I think that's enough. You can send the rest to me later." T'Challa said.

"Just Erik's profile or the whole team's profiles?" Shuri asked, straight-faced.

Erik noticed T'Challa hesitate for a second before he froze and quickly let go of Erik's bicep, "Of course the whole team's."

If Erik wasn't wrong, T'Challa was blushing. Even with the composed way he was holding himself now, T'Challa's body language didn't tell lies. Erik wondered if he cupped T'Challa's cheek with his palm right now; would it burn under his palm like a fever brand.

"Kimoyo beads. For Erik and his team. You're putting the shield back up soon aren't you," said T'Challa, changing the topic by bringing up Shuri's gadgets to get her attention.

"After you guys leave, yes." Happy to talk about the beads, she grabbed a carved wooden box off a nearby bench, opening it to reveal a dozen soft pouches. "These were left over from the last version's batch. Since I can't input a complete medical history into a prime bead, I've modified them so only the comm and audio/visual beads are included."

"That's perfect. Thank you Shuri." Erik was handed the box, "Should I tell the other teams to come down here to receive theirs?"

"Yep."

Erik waited for her to explain how to use to beads, "So is there an instruction manual or something?"

"It's quite intuitive once you get the hang of it. I'm sure my brother would be happy to show you how they work."

Realising they weren't going to be getting much else from Shuri, who had turned back to her work desk and was making minor adjustments to a cloaking field over a miniature layout of Wakanda, they left quietly. 

"Bye brother, bye Erik." They heard her say after them in a distracted voice.

On the short way back to the complex, as Shuri had predicted, T'Challa carefully explained how the kimoyo beads worked to Erik, demonstrating how to open the main menu and sending holo comms. By the time they arrived at the hall, the noon sun had long since reached its zenith across the sky.

In companionable silence, Erik and T'Challa watched the last arc of a flaming sunset languid in its descent, painting all the life on the Wakanda plains as living shadow puppets against a backdrop of waning vermillion. No words passed between the two men who saw with cat eyes the homeward journey of beasts and birds miles beyond. The sunset was magnificent in its beauty, and it reminded each of separate times past.

Stopping at the entrance of the canopy lobby, now lined with flowing drapes, Erik spoke first, breaking the tranquil air, "So I guess it's goodnight."

T'Challa seemed reluctant to part, "Yes. Goodnight Erik."

Erik watched T'Challa go. No matter how attached T'Challa was starting to get, it wouldn't bode well for Erik to start feeling comfortable too. 

The feral part of him snarled at that, chains grating. It recognised a potential mate in the lingering scent T'Challa had left behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter!  
> Also updated the tags for your convenience.
> 
> I'm sorry about how late this chapter is but bear with me. I am trying my best here. Again, thanks to all who have read this and extra brownie points to those who have commented, bookmarked and/or gave kudos. You probably don't know how happy and motivating those are, as egotistic as that sounds.
> 
> Next update: coming soon after I deal with my uni assessments!


End file.
